InsaneJournal

Road Trip (Kirk/McCoy, NC-17)
Title: Road Trip
Characters: Kirk/McCoy
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1508
Warnings: Baby's First Trek Fic
Summary: Jim takes Bones on a road trip to help him to relax.
Notes: Okay, so basically this is all inell's fault. I told her I couldn't write Star Trek fic because I'd screw up someone's name or have someone go through the wrong door on the ship and everything would be ruined forever. She proceeded to inform me that if I wrote something that took place in Iowa, I wouldn't have to worry about any of that. So, uh…this happened.

"This is some hotel," says Bones, slinging his bag onto one of the beds. It slips against the cheap polyester comforter, and Bones curls his lip.

"Yeah, well. Try to think of it as an adventure." Jim is already stretched out on the other bed, kicking off his shoes and twisting the lid from a bottle of beer. He takes a long draw and Bones just stands there, watching. Jim looks up. "What?"

"I'm not sleeping here." Seriously, the room is disgusting. Bones is sure it's been cleaned sometime this century, but there's a suspicious stain on the comforter of the bed that Jim's not sprawled upon, and that's enough for Bones. "I sort of prefer my lodgings to be sanitary."

Jim just smirks around his beer bottle, and Bones heaves a sigh and sits gingerly on the edge of Jim's bed. He's not some sort of prissy little nancy boy, but he's also not sleeping in a bed with a stain on it.

"This whole trip was your idea; you can have that bed," he announces, but Jim shakes his head.

"I got here first," he says, and he sets the beer bottle down on the night stand with a clunk and sits up next to Bones, peeling off his jacket which is covered with a fine layer of road dust. Underneath, his shirt is stuck to him with sweat—it's warm enough now for Jim to suggest a road trip, promising it would be relaxing, observing that Bones looked like he needed to relax, and for Bones to be so annoyed by the confines of his dormitory room to agree.

"Wanna put on the air?" Jim asks, and Bones lifts an eyebrow at him.

"No," he says, "I think I like you sweaty." He's just irritable enough after the long motorcycle ride and the discovery of what lay in wait for them in the room that he thinks he'll be contrary to anything Jim suggests for the rest of the night.

"Do you?" Jim asks, and he makes what Bones is sure Jim thinks is some kind of sexy face, but he seriously just looks ridiculous. That hardly matters, though, because the lilt in Jim's voice goes straight to Bones's prick, and he shakes his head. He's tired. That's all. Maybe if he jerks off, he'll feel better.

"I'm gonna take a shower," he announces, and without waiting for a response from Jim, he rises from the bed and steps into the bathroom. The place is barely big enough to turn around in, but the shower is hot and there's plenty of soap and Bones is just starting to relax, feeling the miles melt from his muscles, one soapy hand tight around his prick, when Jim opens the door.

"Sorry," he says, not sounding sorry at all, "Gotta take a piss." Bones sighs and drops his prick and waits for Jim to finish. It's not like he can tell Jim to wait until he comes, and he definitely can't keep going, not with Jim standing right there and the shower stall made of pebbled glass.

Jim flushes, and Bones yelps. "Come on!"

At least Jim has the grace to sound contrite this time. "Sorry. You okay? Need some help in there?"

Bones snorts. "Yeah."

He thought the sarcasm was thick enough in his voice to penetrate even Jim's skull, but a second later Jim swings open the shower door and Bones is speechless for a moment.

"What the fuck—" he finally manages.

Jim's face is the picture of innocence. "You said you needed some help." He's naked, and he steps in, closing the door behind him.

"I'm finished." He's not, but he's also not sharing a shower with Jim. He moves past him, and in the tiny shower his erection brushes Jim's hip, and he jerks his head around, meeting Jim's eyes for the briefest of seconds before jerking away again and stepping out of the shower.

He grabs a towel—they're tiny, like the bathroom, and threadbare, but at least they're not stained—and is standing by the bed, working on drying off and coaxing his erection down when Jim emerges, all pink and steamy.

"So," he asks, "What do you want to do?" He's dripping all over the carpet, and Bones snorts and tosses the towel at him. It hits him in the crotch. Bones pretends not to notice.

"What do you mean, what do I want to do?" Bones frowns and grabs a pair of boxers from his overnight bag. He steps into them, not looking at Jim. His prick is still half-hard and he hopes the loose shorts will disguise it, but has no such luck.

"Well," says Jim, picking up the half-empty beer bottle from the night stand, "I figure either we can get drunk and then you can beat the shit out of me for coming onto you, or we can skip the getting drunk and you can decide afterwards if you still want to beat me up." Jim sets the bottle down again without taking a drink. "I sort of prefer the second scenario, myself."

"After—?"

"Yeah, after." Jim stares at Bones's crotch.

"Oh." For once, he's at a loss for words. He can't deny his arousal, as new and as shocking as it is. "Listen, Jim, I don't do shit like this. The last time I got laid was—" he pauses, remembering.

"Your wife, sure. But she's gone." Jim pauses, steps closer. "And I'm here. So why not?"

"Fuck," Bones breathes, and he can't say anything else before Jim's mouth is on his.

The kiss is intense, and if Bones had ever imagined what it would be like to kiss Jim, he would have imagined it just this way. But he hasn't, so it's a shock to him. Their teeth clack together and Bones grabs Jim's face in his hands, not clinging, but commanding.

"Why not?" he gasps when he finally dares break the kiss, and Jim blinks and a half-second later, that cocky, lazy grin spreads over his face, and Bones kisses him again just to wipe it away.

He backs Jim up until he hits the bed, then pushes him down upon it, still kissing him, and their kiss is almost a battle. But Bones has the upper hand, and he presses himself to Jim's naked form, just the thin cotton of his boxers between them. Jim is warm and wet and practically fucking glowing from the hot shower, and he's completely pathetic, arching himself up and rubbing their cocks together and moaning.

"Come on," Jim whines, and he tugs at the elastic of Bones's shorts. Bones shoves them down, not minding that they tangle around one ankle, just wanting to feel flesh on flesh, though he meant it when he said he doesn't do shit like this. He doesn't sleep with men, and he doesn't sleep around, but his rules don't seem to matter when it's his best friend writhing underneath him, grasping at his shoulders, rubbing their naked cocks together, looking up at him with those dancing blue eyes, almost daring Bones to kiss him again.

Bones does, and Jim's lips part, and their tongues tangle as they speed their movements. Bones knows how it's done between two men, of course, but the idea of putting it into practice scares the hell out of him. Luckily, Jim seems content just to rub and squirm against each other. He grabs Bones's ass with both hands, spurring Bones onward, faster, faster, until his balls draw tight and he knows he's going to come all over his best friend and that thought scares him for a flash of a moment before there's nothing he can do about it. The wet warmth spreads between them, and Bones cries out, a strangled moan, and a moment later Jim grunts his way through his orgasm, too, and they collapse, sweaty, sticky, sated.

"So, like I said," Bones murmurs when he can finally speak again, "I'm not sleeping in that bed." He flops onto his back and stares at the ceiling.

"Mmm," Jim agrees, stretching a lazy arm towards him, "I think we've established that."

There's a long silence between them; Bones hears a car pull up and doors slam outside, and there are the voices of two young girls, and there is laughter.

"So, are you going to beat the shit out of me?" Jim finally asks, that cocky tone in his voice, and Bones turns his head to look at Jim, who's smiling.

"I think you might like that a little too much," he says, and Jim laughs, and Bones laughs, too, and he has to admit—though he won't out loud—that Jim was right. So far, the trip is definitely shaping up to be relaxing.

"If I we don't catch diseases from these sheets," Bones says, "Maybe we can try this again sometime."

"We'd better," says Jim, and that is the last thing either of them says before they fall asleep.